


history of thievery

by sapphiresaffitz



Category: Bon Appétit Test Kitchen (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1, Denver, F/M, Smut, Stolen Items
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23711599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphiresaffitz/pseuds/sapphiresaffitz
Summary: “I was looking for a coat, thank you. You could’ve warned me that the walk-in was freezing.”Brad shakes his head, letting out a chuckle. “It’s a freezer, Saffitz, what did you expect?”
Relationships: Brad Leone/Claire Saffitz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	history of thievery

**Author's Note:**

> to my beta for being the best cheerleader and the discord for being the greatest support system and friends, a girl could ask for.

1.

The chill of the walk-in is finally settling into her bones and she regrets ever agreeing to this. Claire has promised Brad that she could take care of the walk-in and put away that week’s shipment because the delivery ran late and he had a date. She tries not to think of the idea of him wine and dining another woman, of him staring at another woman the same way she pretends he doesn’t stare at her, of another woman throwing her head back in laughter at one of his jokes. 

For the past five years, Claire has tried to push down the feelings she has for him. She has tried to tell herself that it’s just a crush. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that she has slowly felt the crush turn into something that more resembles love and less like a schoolgirl crush. It doesn’t matter that she knows she falling for him over the little things; like the way he tells her the same story multiple times in the same day (she’s not sorry that she loves the look on his face when he gets excited), the way her hands fit around his wrists when she’s teaching him how to fold sourdough, how he’s always by her side when she gets overwhelmed, how he drops everything when she needs help tinkering with something. Claire chalks it up to their best friend, trying to prevent her mind from wandering into dangerous territory of  _ what-ifs  _ and  _ maybes _ . 

A cold chill runs through her and she’s suddenly vaulted back into reality, where she is  _ really  _ standing in the middle of the walk-in and she is seconds away from throwing in the towel. It is too cold in here and she can not figure out how Brad and Gaby have everything organized, even though she’s been staring at the same system for years. She was never the one who was in charge of putting anything away and she’s seconds away from throwing everything on the floor and starting over.

Her type A is getting the better of her. If her hair wasn’t already turning grey, this night might just do the trick. 

She lets out a loud groan, grateful that she’s the only person left in the test kitchen before she throws the freezer door open. She is greeted by the warmth of the test kitchen. Even with all of the ovens off, there’s still a lingering heat and she can feel her goose-pimpled skin start to warm and smooth out. Claire is acutely aware that she has to go back inside the walk-in eventually and knows that if she does, she’ll need something to keep her warm.

It’s the middle of August, coat weather long gone in New York City. Claire knows that Gaby has a coat for her time spent in the walk-in but Claire also knows that there’s not a chance she’s going to fit into Gaby’s coat. Claire is petite, but not that petite. 

She crosses the kitchen to the back break room with a plan. She starts snooping around Brad’s cubby where he keeps his personal belongings when he’s in the kitchen, but she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. There has to be a flannel or coat laying around here somewhere. 

“Lookin’ for somethin’ there, Half-Sour?” Claire jumps and her heart is racing, her blood rushing through her entire body. She feels like she’s six years old again, caught sneaking candy, or seventeen, back when she used to sneak home hours after curfew. She feels guilty for something even though he left her here without any reinforcements for the cold of the walk-in. 

“God-Brad! You could warn someone next time!”

“Nah, it’ll ruin the look you have on your face right now.” She stands back up to her full height and turns to look at him. She feels her face flush and her heart returns to racing status. 

Brad Leone is standing in front of her, more dressed up than she’s ever seen him. His hair is slicked back enough to be out of his face, but still loose enough that his curls move freely. He’s dressed in a nice white button-down shirt tucked into a pair of black dress pants. His beard is trimmed but still scruffy enough that it would leave a burn behind on her thighs if she could get his mouth where she wanted it. 

She shook her head, attempting to refocus her thoughts away from what she wishes Brad would do to her. Claire takes a deep breath before opening her mouth. “I thought you had a date.” 

Maybe he finally realized that he’s in love with her, like she had been for so long. Maybe he’s come back to finally,  _ finally, _ kiss her like she wants him to. Maybe she’s not crazy for thinking just  _ maybe  _ he would sweep her off her feet.

Not that Claire Saffitz needed anyone to sweep her off her feet.

Brad shrugged, still leaning against the doorframe. “I did, but she spent half the night yelling at our waitress and I couldn’t take it anymore,” he pauses and Claire feels all the hope she had for a brief moment vanish. “And I figured that you could use some help.”

“I have this under control, thank you.” Brad raises an eyebrow at her and she can’t help but let out a soft laugh. 

“Is that why you’re digging through my stuff?” Claire chews on her bottom lip, her eyes cast downward to avoid feeling like a child. 

“I was looking for a coat, thank you. You could’ve warned me that the walk-in was freezing.” 

Brad shakes his head, letting out a chuckle. “It’s a freezer, Saffitz, what did you expect?”

“I didn’t ask for your sass, Leone. Do you have a coat here or not?” Brad turns on his heel and walks across the kitchen, back towards the walk-in. He reaches beneath his desk and pulls out a blue and black flannel. Claire followed him and mentally kicked herself for not looking under Brad’s desk. He reaches it out to her and she curls her fingers around the soft material. 

Claire puts it on and tries to ignore the overwhelming feeling of being wrapped in his scent. It smells like wood and earth and the cologne he swears he doesn’t wear and  _ Brad.  _ Her heart is warm and her skin is flustered and if she wasn’t antsy to get the shipment put away, she would close her eyes and commit this moment to memory. 

“Would you like some help?”

Claire shakes her head as she opens the walk-in door. “I got this. Go drown your sorrows in beer. I know you want to.” 

Brad smiles softly at her and nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Half-Sour,” he pauses, taking in the sight of her in his flannel. “Don’t make that going missing, it’s my favorite.” 

  
Claire laughs and shakes her head. “Goodbye, Brad.” He’s gone as quickly as he came and Claire tries to refocus her attention on the task at hand, now that she’s warm again. 

It takes her another two hours to finish putting everything away, getting distracted by the scent that envelopes her.

It seems so domestic, to be wearing his flannel. It’s too large on her tiny frame. The sleeves hang far past her small wingspan, the hem hitting at her knees. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend that she picked it up off his floor after a night of rough sex, pretend that the sight of her in his flannel makes him weak at the kees like it does her when she wears it. She wonders for a moment if it’ll smell like her next time he wears it, if he’ll get as distracted by her scent as she is by his.

A plan is hatched in her mind. She’ll steal his flannel, just for one night, and wash it with the rest of her clothes. She wants to see the look on his face when he’s confronted by her scent on his clothes.

\---

Brad puts the flannel on the following day and notices that it no longer smells like him, but it smells like sugar and oranges and her favorite perfume.

God, he’s screwed.

2.

It’s snowing and Claire thinks it’s the most magical thing on the planet. The white flurries fall from the sky and she can’t help but stick out her tongue, trying to catch a snowflake. The rest of the editors are hurrying into the bar down the street, but Claire rarely gets to be in the New York snow without being rushed somewhere. It snows a lot in New York, but there’s never a moment where Claire doesn’t feel like she has a million things on her plate. Book deals, shooting schedules, avoiding her budding crush-turned-desperately in love feelings she has for a certain 6’4” chef who she shares a station with. 

Brad is standing next to her, watching the way her brown eyes light up when a flake falls squarely on her outstretched tongue. He’s cold, even under his thick coat and warm sweater, and he knows that there is no  _ way  _ she isn’t freezing, but he can’t bring himself to break the spell she’s under. 

He’s been holding his heart close to his chest since he first met her, so scared of giving it away to her without her respecting it. Brad wants to believe that the way her nose crinkles when she messes up is just for him, or the way she throws her back in pure unadulterated laughter is only for him to see, but there’s always cameras around. Even when the cameras are off, he’ll find her doing the same shit that made him fall in love with her with Delany and Brad always has to remind himself that he’s not special. 

No matter what the comment section of their videos says. 

They’re just friends, _best _friends. They might toe the line of being something _more _but he’s not ready to risk everything he’s holding on to in order to be something more. He’s okay with being her go-to handyman, her favorite cheerleader and advice giver. He wants to be by her side, in whatever capacity she’ll have him. 

“Brad! Claire!  _ Come on! _ ” They both turn to see Chris standing in the doorway of the bar before sharing a look at each other. Brad can see the disappointment cross her face at being scolded and told to go inside, but it only lasts a split second before she tugging on Brad’s hand, dragging him into the bar behind her.

\---

They squeeze together in the booth in the back corner of the bar, big enough that the six of them fit but it’s close, especially when Brad fills up the space of two normal-sized humans. Claire can feel everything part of their bodies that’s touching and it’s quickly driving her crazy. She downs her beers faster than she usually would to distract herself.

But she has work to do in the morning, even if it’s a Saturday, so she stops after three. She’s tipsy enough that she’s leaning a few pounds of her body weight against Brad, but not enough that she might do something she’ll regret.

This is the line they walk together, every day. They push the boundaries of what is considered friends being friends, public displays of affection and full-blown flirting, but they both know that they are just friends. Claire hopes, clings to a small part of her that believes that he could want her back.

Brad has been nursing one beer for the entire time they’ve been sitting in the booth. He doesn’t shy away when Claire leans a little closer than normal, her head resting on against his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the scent that he knows is so  _ Claire. _ She smells like flour and butter from working all day making the perfect pizza dough. A part of Brad itches to kiss the top of her head, to rest his cheek against her hair, to tuck a few stray pieces that fall from her ponytail behind her ear. He’s actively participating in the conversations happening around him, feel free to be loud and himself, surrounded by a few of the most important people in his life. 

Arguably, the most important is tucked next to his side.

Soon, the conversations slow and a few editors leave to take care of their kids, spouses, and pets. Claire is looking up at him through her long dark lashes. Her brown eyes are a little hazy from the alcohol coursing through her system, but Brad knows that she’s not drunk. Drunk Claire runs her hand up and down his thigh, she holds his gaze for longer than she would sober, she would wrap her hand around his bicep and it would take everything Brad has inside of him not to take her home and get her naked. 

“I need to head home.” Her voice is small and soft in a way that makes Brad weak at the knees. He manages to get out of the booth, holding his hand out for her take. She places her small hand inside of his larger one and stands up, taking a small stumble as she adjusts to being back on her feet.

Brad drops her hand once she’s settled on her feet and heads towards the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that she’s following. 

\---

They’re walking down the cold New York street together, heading towards the subway station when Brad notices that the tips of Claire’s ears are bright red. Without thinking about it, he takes the beanie off of his head and places it on top of Claire’s, making sure to pull it down over her ears. 

He makes a mental note to take it back from her once they reach her apartment, the ferry to New Jersey is cold even on the best of days. Once they’re standing in front of her building, Brad can’t bring himself to pull it off of her head, she looks so cute with her hair poking out from the edges.

\---

The next time he sees his beanie, it’s perched on top of Claire’s head as she’s rushing into the test kitchen and he adds it to the list of things she’s stolen from him.

3.

Claire is currently trying to reverse engineer a Dorito. She’s pretty confident, but then Rapo comes down from upstairs and tells her that she'll be lucky to get close to an actual Dorito. Now, she’s forming the dough in pure spite of him. She doesn’t need Rapo down her throat about how she can’t do it, her confidence is already at a breaking point. Claire is already aware of how much money Frito Lay spent redesigning the chips and there has to be a reason, companies don’t just spend $50 million for no reason. 

Worse of all, Brad is in Hawaii filming  _ It’s Alive! Going Places.  _ She doesn’t have her biggest supporter, her best friend, to cheer her on from the station behind her. It should feel more normal to not have him here, he’s been missing from the kitchen for the past three episodes but she’s itching to see him again.

He’s just a friend.

Claire has to remind herself that Brad is  _ not  _ romantically interested in her. They run in two very different circles and it's a miracle that they even met in the first place. He’s a simple boy from New Jersey who loves to work with his hands (Oh,  _ those  _ hands.). Claire is  _ Claire.  _ She’s a midwesterner turned city girl who loves Broadway, American History and art museums. 

A pan crashes behind her and Claire remembers where she is and that there are cameras on her. “There has to be a tortilla press around here somewhere.” She’s typically not on to talk to herself when she’s cooking, but she’s gotten used to having to when she’s filming. She turns around, scoping out the room as where the press could’ve gone, her bottom lip in between her teeth. “Hey, Gaby! Do you know where the tortilla press is?”

Gaby looks away from checking off shipment and points to the cabinets above the fridge across the kitchen from them. “Over there. Need help?” 

“I’ll grab the stool.”

\--

Claire reaches into the abyss that is the appliance cabinet and manages to find the press in record time. Pulling it out, she lets out a soft chuckle. There’s a strip of green painter’s tape over the latch with very familiar handwriting. 

_ Brad’s. DO NOT TOUCH  _

She hands the press to Gaby and the other woman lets out a laugh. “Look, Brad, look how I’m touching it.” Claire shakes her head as she closes the cabinet and descends the step stool. 

“He’ll never know. He’s in Hawaii. It’s not like he watches my videos.” 

\---

Brad  _ loved  _ Hawaii, but something felt like it was missing. He had been home for weeks, but he can’t stop thinking about the way a certain pastry chef would look on a tropical beach with him. He feels like he hasn’t seen her in  _ months.  _ It feels like every time he’s in the kitchen, she’s nowhere to be seen. He knows that they have plans to shoot a handful of videos together in the next few months, but that doesn’t make up for the time that he hasn’t been by her side. 

After yet another day at the test kitchen without his station mate, he settles into his couch. Brad tries not to have the Bon Appetit upload schedule memorized, but when he’s out of the kitchen while Claire’s filming, he can’t help but wonder how she did without him. Not that Claire needs him to do her job, she’s a very capable Harvard graduate and she’s the only person Brad knows who could reverse engineer a Skittle.

He takes a swig of his beer and turns the video on, watching as she does the introduction. He didn’t realize how much he  _ missed  _ her until she’s in front of him, telling him what a Dorito is. His heart clinches in his chest as she giggles on screen, that is until he sees her with his tortilla press in her hands. 

He pauses the video and facetimes her. “Yes, Brad?”

“You stole my tortilla press!” On-screen Claire blinks at him a handful of times, her eyebrow furrowed in confusion.

“I steal your stuff all the time, since when do you--Wait, how did you know that I stole the press?” Brad watches as confusion morphs itself in realization. “Brad, do you watch my videos?” 

“Pff, me, watch your videos?” He fakes innocence before caving in. “Fine-yes, I watch your videos. Happy now?”

Claire lets out a laugh and God, Brad is so smitten with her. 

She can steal whatever she wants from him.

4.

Regardless of how much he knows Claire hates a change of plans, neither one of them thinks that their trip to Denver was a waste. They lose the pie competition but Brad doesn’t care. The way that Claire looks under the warm Midwest sun makes him think about her childhood. How many summers did she spend running around a fairground with her sisters? Is a fairground where she fell in love with pies and pastries? Did her parents have to drag her away from the dessert tent to get her to go home on warm summer nights?

Claire is standing next to him and he is trying to keep his hands to himself. It feels oddly intimate to be standing next to her while she is devouring a bear claw, listening to the sounds that come out of her mouth once the pastry comes in contact with her tongue. He  _ desperately  _ wants to be the cause of those sounds. His entire body aches to wrap around hers, to push the hair off her neck and press his lips against her skin, to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands. 

“Try this.” 

Brad is pulled out of his fantasy when a part of Claire’s pastry is in his face. He wraps his lips and teeth around the outstretched pastry and takes note of how Claire’s eyes dilate before his own slide close.

This is the best thing Brad has ever put in this mouth.

\---

All he hears about for the remainder of the day is how Claire is going to hold herself up in her apartment until she can make a bear claw half as good as the one they shared. 

The sun starts to set and Brad feels his heart race in his chest at the way Claire looks with a halo of the golden sky around her. It looks like the universe has decided that she’s an angel, much to Brad’s enjoyment. Once the sun is fully behind the horizon, Brad attempts to convince her that they need to head back to the hotel. He has an early morning flight the next morning back to New York and knows that she has a mid-afternoon one to the Cape.

\---

They’re finally walking down the hotel hallway and Brad is suddenly overcome with an intense wave of disappointment that he didn’t expect. He doesn’t want to go back to his own hotel room, he doesn’t want to get himself off knowing that she’s in the room down the hall. 

“This is me.”

Claire breaks the silence they had fallen into as they come to stop. Neither one of them makes an effort to move and Brad can’t help but stare at her. Her pale cheeks are flushed with the start of a sunburn, her hair now up in a messy ponytail. Her brown eyes, with specks of golden sun remaining, are looking up at him with a vast array of emotions displayed. He can see flecks of joy, the same way her eyes light up when she’s tackled the most difficult Gourmet Makes, but there’s also hints of disappointment, the same emotion that races through his body, the look he’s always wanted to kiss off of her face when she’s messed up tempering chocolate again. There’s another emotion present, one that he’s seen before but could never pinpoint. It’s present whenever his hand lingers for a little too long on the small of her back when he’s folded in half across her station while filming just to get the chance of looking at her longer, it’s the same look she had in her eyes as she fed him the pastry earlier in the day.

“Claire.” His voice is rough and laced with want and need and pure unadulterated  _ desire.  _ He steps closer to her, his rough, calloused hand coming up to cup her cheek, his thumb grazing over her cheekbone. “Tell me and I’ll stop.” 

She shakes her head, her arms wrapping around his neck. She leans up and he bends down, their lips meeting in the middle. 

Time stops. 

Brad’s hands wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him. She feels so small pressed up against him. If he didn’t know any better, he would be worried that he’d break her, but this is Claire, his  _ Claire _ . She’s anything but fragile, judging by how strong her hold is on his hair. He runs his tongue along the seam of her lips, silently begging for even the smallest taste of her. 

One of Claire’s hands plays with curls at the nape of his neck, her fingernails grazing across his skin sending shivers down his spine. Her other hand has a fistful of his shirt in her hand. If someone would’ve told Brad last week that he would be here, kissing Claire Saffitz in the middle of a hotel hallway in Denver, he would’ve thought that they were crazy. He doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring if he’ll ever get the chance to kiss her again. If he’ll get to feel the way her fingertips feel against his scalp, the way her body conforms against his, the way her mouth sends fire through his veins.

The small moan she lets out as she gives his tongue access to her mouth makes him lose all control. His hands wrap around her ass, picking her up and slamming her into the door. She lets out a small yelp and her arms draped around his neck, her fingernails continue to dig in his hair. Her legs wrap around his waist and his hips thrust into hers, trying to create some sort of friction. 

Brad’s lips leave hers and start trailing down the pale, milky skin of her neck. Claire throws her head back in a moan, giving him more access. She threads one of her hands through his hair, keeping his head firmly against her skin. He sinks his teeth into the skin at the juncture of her neck and collarbone and smirks when he hears the hiss escape her lips. His tongue smooths over the mark before he pulls away from her neck, taking in the way she looks right now.

There’s a bright red mark where Brad’s mouth just was, her eyes are hooded; there’s a thin rim of brown surrounding her huge black pupils. Her strawberry shirt is riding up a little around her hips and Brad can’t wait to see what she looks like under all those clothes. He leans forward again, his lips next to her ear. “Door, open. Now.” 

Claire reaches behind her, inserting the room key into the slot. Brad tightens his grip around her as the door swings open. He walks into the room, kicking the door close behind him and crosses to the bed in the middle of the room. He drops her and watches with hooded eyes as her body bounces against the mattress. He kneels above her, his knees framing her hips. His hands slip under her shirt, gazing at the soft skin that he finds there. 

Her hands reach out, toying with the hem of his shirt before disappearing under the fabric. He 

Claire lets out a whimper as her hips thrust up. Brad wants to take the time to discover every curve of her body, wants to know what spots drive her crazy but now is not that time. He pulls her shirt over her head, his heart racing more with every stretch of pale skin that’s revealed to him. His hands move from her hips to reach behind her, unclasping her bra. She shrugs the article of clothing from her shoulders and Brad feels his breath hitch. He can’t help but stare at the way her body looks in the moonlight. 

She’s  _ perfect. _

Her skin is flushed red in spots, he can’t tell if it’s from the blush that’s slowly taking over her body or the sun they both received earlier in the day. She’s all curves and soft edges. His hands roam to her breasts, his rough fingers tracing around her pebbled skin. 

“Brad…” She’s begging now and Brad can’t think of anything sexier. He pulls away slightly from her, leaning up to capture her lips in a kiss. It’s frantic and passionate. Her hands worm their way under his shirt and he lets out a hiss as her fingernails dig into his back. 

“ _ Claire _ .” It comes out as a growl. His lips leave hers, traveling down her chest and leaving red marks in his wake. He takes one of her peaks in his mouth, his tongue teasing the bud as his hands reach down to undo her jeans. Her back arches, pushing her breast farther into his mouth. 

Brad pulls himself away from her body, his finger hooking into the waistband of her jeans and underwear. He stands up as he pulls the clothing off of her.

It takes everything Brad has in him not to come at the sight of her laid out before him. If he thought she looked like an angel before, she looks downright  _ sinful  _ now. She’s spread out for him. Her salt and pepper hair is fanned out across the pillow, her skin glowing, her legs spread just wide enough that Brad can take a glimpse at how much she wants him. 

She’s going to be the death of him.

He pulls off all of his own clothes before climbing on top of her. He takes a moment to stare into her eyes. There’s so much desire and trust and unspoken words of love and devotion hiding behind the mask of chocolate. Brad’s hand cups her cheek and he breathes in the scent that is nothing but  _ Claire.  _

If this is the only night he gets with her in this lifetime, he’s going to spend as much time as possible trying to remember what it feels like to be loved by Claire Saffitz.

“What do you want?” His voice is sweet and tender, a stark contrast to what it was moments ago. Claire looks up through her long lashes as she chews on her bottom lip. There’s a moment of hesitation and Brad wonders if this is where it stops if she’ll finally come to her senses and put an end to it.

“You.” Her voice is strong and there’s not a trace of the hesitation Brad was so sure would be there. Her answer is all that it takes to reignite the fire burning inside of him. His lips move to the spot behind her ear, sucking and nipping at it. A full-body shiver overcomes her, a gasp leaving her mouth. “Please, Brad. God.” 

  
His hand reaches down, one finger sliding the wetness that greets him. Claire lets out another whimper, her hips moving downward to try and find some release from his fingers. 

“I could play with you all night.” It’s whispered in her ear as his soaked finger moves up her body to trace around on her nipples. 

“Please, Brad. I need you.” She’s  _ begging  _ and Brad never wants her to stop. 

As much as he wants to keep toying with her, seeing how close he can take her to the edge before she snaps, he also wants to see the look on her face as she comes, the way her body contours as pleasure races through her. 

He plunges a finger inside of her without warning, taking immense pleasure in watching the way she squirms beneath him. After a few thrusts, he kisses her as he adds a second finger. He swallows the moan that comes out of her mouth. His lips return to her neck, adding more and more red marks as he works his way down to her breasts. Brad takes one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and nipping and licking while his fingers speed up their assault of her cunt. He spends a few seconds on the first before kissing his way across her chest to the second, giving it the same treatment. Brad can feel her hand in his hair, pushing his face into the soft skin in front of him.

He spends a few more seconds relishing her nipple before his lips continue their journey downwards, where she’s  _ aching  _ to have him. He adds a few bite marks to the plush skin of her stomach before finding himself face to face with her drenched, swollen heat. His mouth wraps around her clit, his tongue playing with the bundle of nerves. Brad’s free arm presses down on her hips, preventing her from thrusting her hips into his face.

It doesn’t take long for her to come around his fingers, his name falling from her lips. He pulls away just enough to watch the way her eyes screw shut, her back arches off the bed, her hands pulling the sheets into her fists. His fingers continue to pump in and out of her until her walls stop clenching around them. Her eyes finally open and Brad can’t help but smile at the look she’s giving him.

Claire’s eyes are glassy and a soft smile tugs at her lips. As much as Brad wants to get inside of her, to make her scream his name again, he can’t help but swell with pride that he was able to break this Harvard graduate down to her most primal needs. He moves above again, taking in the blush that has spread across her entire body and is now mixing with the purple marks his mouth left behind. 

He lines himself up with her, his tip poking at the entrance. Brad looks down at her, looking for permission to press himself completely into her. Claire doesn’t say anything, but wraps her legs around his waist, pulling his hips towards hers. He enters her torturously slow, scared that if he too fast he’ll hurt her. Once he bottoms out, his head falls next to her, his lips next to her ear.

“Fuck, babe.” Slowly, he pulls out and slams back into her, building speed with each thrust. Claire fingernails scratch up and down his back and he knows that those marks will be there for the next few days. 

It only takes a few thrusts before he’s spilling into her, her name coming out of his mouth in a broken off moan. He’s seeing stars as pleasure courses through his body, wondering what the hell he did in order to get the chance to have her. He doesn’t move for a handful of moments, her fingernails still lightly scratching at his scalp. 

“Fuck, Claire.” He rolls off of her, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Brad has always thought about what it would be like to hold her, to be the cause of her pleasure, what she looked like under her aprons and jumpsuits, but none of his fantasies came close to what she looked like completely blissed out because of him. The image of her coming around his fingers, her eyes screwed shut, her body arching off the bed, is going to follow him for the rest of his life.

\----

Every fiber of Claire’s body feels like it’s on fire. Her skin is destroyed with bites, bruises, and marks, her mind is clouded with love and pleasure, but she can feel a nagging thought push its way through to the front of her mind.

_ What the fuck did she just do? _

The panic starts to set into her bones as she feels Brad roll out of the bed next to her. Claire Saffitz is not the kind of woman who has one night stands. She’s not the type of woman to sleep with her coworkers- especially when she has been in love with him for the past six years. How could she have been so stupid? 

But, God, the way he looked at her like she was the most precious thing sends shivers down her spine. How will she ever be able to go back to being just his friend when she knows what it feels like to be filled up by him? What is she supposed to now that she knows what it’s like to have his hands on every inch of her body? Her hands cover her face as she lets out a loud groan. This might just be the stupid thing she has ever done. 

“Claire.” Brad is at the side of the bed, a wet washcloth in his hands. “Stop overthinkin’, will ya?” He hands her the cloth and she sits up in order to clean herself up. “I’m going to take a shower.”

\---

Brad didn’t really need to take a shower, but he needed a moment to collect his thoughts. He wants to spend the rest of his life making love to her. His heart couldn’t take it if he was forced to being just her friend again. 

The hot water rolls down his body, falling into the marks she left. His hands cover his face as he squeezes his eyes shut. What is he supposed to do? Does he tell her how in love with her he is? Does he let her think that this was a one-off event and will never happen again? Does he leave in the morning for his flight and they never talk about it again? He can’t. He will find a new job before he goes back to being just her friend. 

He has to tell her. 

Brad turns the water off and dries himself off. He splashes cold water on his face before opening the door back into the room. Brad half expects Claire to be standing in front of the door, screaming at him that they need to talk about it, but she’s nowhere to be found. He turns his attention back to bed and can’t help the smile that appears on his face.

In the middle of the crumpled sheets, he can see her body, now dressed in  _ his  _ t-shirt, curled in the fetal position. He can’t bring himself to wake her up, so he puts his boxers back on and lays down next to her. Brad wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her as close to him as possible, his lips pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “I love you.” It’s the last thing he says after the best day of his life before drifting off to sleep.

\---

Claire wakes up when an alarm sounds through the room before she realizes that it’s not her phone that’s going off. A sense of confusion overwhelms her until all the memories from the night before come flooding back. She can feel Brad’s arm wrapped around her waist and she can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to wake up every day with him behind her, but as quickly as the thought comes into her mind, he moves. She pretends to still be asleep, not turning over as she hears him disappear into the bathroom.

She sits up in the bed, staring down at the hem of the t-shirt that was too big to hers. What’s the plan now? She hadn’t meant to fall asleep last night. She was going to talk to him about...whatever this was, but the sounds of the running show soothed her exhausted body to sleep before she could protest. She has to tell him.

She’s in love with him. There’s no way that she can watch as he gets on a plane back to New York without telling me. 

The bathroom door opens and Claire looks up as he walks out, her fingers still toying with the edge of the shirt. He’s shirtless but has his jeans from the night before on.

“Oh, you’re awake.” She smiles softly.

“Yeah. Brad, we-”

“I know, Claire. We will, I promise. But I have to go or I’ll miss my flight.” He crosses over to the bed and presses a kiss to the top of her head. She wants to tell him to miss it, to join her on the later flight to the Cape. She wishes she had the confidence to tell him  _ why  _ she needs him to stay with her. She doesn’t want the chance to overthink things and Claire knows if she’s left on her own, she’ll talk herself out of everything. “Call me when you get to the Cape?” It’s a statement, but Claire senses the underlying question. “We’ll talk then.” 

Claire chews on her bottom lip as she watches him cross the room to the door. He lingers facing the door for a moment like he’s waiting for her to say something to him. It takes all the courage she has left to open her mouth.

“Brad-” He turns around and she can see the hope in his eyes-even from halfway across the room. “I’m in love with you.”

He’s across the room in three large strides, one of his hands tucked under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I’m in love with you.” Brad leans down, capturing her lips in the most tender kiss. Claire feels a wave of relief wash over her, her heart races as her hand cups his cheek. She has never felt more loved or appreciated or  _ wanted  _ in her life. The man she has been in love for years loves her back. He pulls away, resting his forehead against hers. “Promise you’ll call when you land?”

Claire scrunches up her nose, staring up at him as she lets out a soft laugh. “Scared I’m going to leave ya hanin’, Leone?”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head before crossing back over to the door. “Never know with ya, Half-Sour.”

Claire steals both his t-shirt and his heart that night and Brad can’t find it in himself to care. 

5.

Claire had been talking to Hunzi about hosting an episode of  _ It’s Alive  _ for a while. She had been itching for a change from filming Gourmet Makes. Her show is always so strict and straight-edged and sometimes, Claire needs to ramble to the camera about how her boyfriend won’t answer her text messages and how she broke into his secret freezer- the baby is just an added bonus.

They’ve been together for just under nine months. Claire has been accepting of Brad in most parts of her life, but it hasn’t been easy. She’s always been very independent, okay with being alone and suddenly, having a chaotic extrovert running around her has been a challenging change. They have plans to move in together once his lease is up in April, but Claire is having a hard time picturing all of Brad stuff littering her apartment-but Brad fits well in her life. 

They spent actual Thanksgiving with her family in Cape Cod. Brad looked like he belonged there, by her side in the kitchen, laughing with her extended family, playing football with her brothers-in-law and nephews, winning her aunts over with his signature smile. Her sisters joked with her about pulling out her wedding planning binders from her childhood.

Brad spent all eight days of Hanukkah by her side, watching her light her Menorah and giving her small tokens of his love for her. It had meant the world to her that he wanted to celebrate with her, no matter what he grew to celebrate. 

Claire returned the favor by celebrating Christmas with Brad’s family in New Jersey, watching the way he interacts with his mom, how he picks and teases his younger sister, how he plays dolls and dresses up with his niece. Claire never thought she would be the type of woman to swoon over her partner playing with kids, but Claire also never felt this type of love before. 

“What even is this show?” She says with a laugh. “Why does Brad get the easy show?” Hunzi shakes his head, laughing at her from just off-screen.

“Next time you see Dan, ask him about how day one of Andes Mints went.”

She shakes her head as she takes a sip of water. “I can only imagine the chaos that ensued. I really set Chris up for failure.” She hears Chris snicker from behind her.

“Never pair me with Brad again. He was day four Claire forty minutes in.” She turns around to face him, watching as he shakes his head at her. “Claire-he thought the Andes were in Europe.”

Oh, she is totally giving him shit for that when he gets home. “I’ll make you a deal. Stop giving me shit about tempering chocolate and I’ll never pair you with Brad again.” 

“Stop doing snacks you have to temper.” She laughs again, her eyes rolling her head. “But deal. Your job is hard enough.” 

“Oh, look at that. Me finally getting the respect I deserve around here.” Everyone within earshot of her laughs. There’s no one in the test kitchen that doesn’t respect Claire and she knows this. She knows how much everyone admires her, how much they look up to her, but it’s still nice when she can throw a little bit of shade at Chris. 

\--

Brad returns from LA later that night and heads straight to her apartment. He doesn’t think twice about the text he had received earlier about sourdough starter, his thoughts already occupied by a string of dirty texts she had sent him to read once he landed. It’s not until after they’re both blissed out from pleasure, her head chest on his chest and his finger tracing doodles on her back that he remembers.

“Hey, Claire?” His voice is soft and sweet, the one that he reserves just for her. She hums softly as her fingers play with his chest hair. “Why did you need to know if I had any starter at the test kitchen?”

She moves her head to look at him, a smirk starting to appear on her face. “Oh, no reason.” He raises one of his eyebrows as he sees the evil twinkle in her eye. She’s a brat sometimes, Brad can’t even begin to count the number of things she’s stolen from him over the past six years. Claire pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing on the kiss swollen flesh.

“That’s how this is gonna go. You wanna go round two.” He flips them over as she lets out a squeal. “I’ll teach you not to steal my starter.” It comes out as a growl and the look on Claire’s face completely changes. She was fun and playful meer seconds ago, now her eyes are wide as she stares up at him, lips parted. 

Claire, the in-charge, type A, control freak loves when Brad takes control in the bedroom. He loves to make her beg and whimper and plead and cry, bring her as close to the edge without ever letting her tumble over. He loves to mark her, suck red marks into her skin where they are the only people who can see it; spank her until her ass is red and raw and she’s screaming. He burrows his head in between her legs and eats her, leaving rough beard marks in his wake. He fucks her until she’s sobbing from overstimulation and he’s spilling inside of her. 

That should teach her not to steal his things, but Brad doubts it’ll actually work.

+1

Nerves course through his body and Brad can’t help shifting from foot to foot. How long is she going to make him stand here? Brad needs to move when he’s full of nerves, needs to get them out of his system, but he is being forced to stand here, waiting on her. He should be used to it by now, it’s been three years of waiting on the notoriously late Claire Saffitz, but here he is, still waiting.

The music changes and everyone stands up, turning away from where Brad is. Within seconds, Brad's heart starts to race, his nerves teetering on the edge of driving him crazy-he might forget how to breathe when he sees her. Claire is standing at the top of the aisle, one arm wrapped around her father’s, the other one holding a bouquet in the other. She had spent hours telling him which flowers are which and what they mean, but she had that look in her eye that always distracted him from paying attention to what she’s saying.

He feels the tears fall from his eyes before he realizes his crying. He never thought that he would get the chance to kiss her, let alone be the man she’s walking down the aisle towards. There’s a blush that is present on her face and Brad knows that it’s because she’s the center of attention, but she deserves to be. Brad has seen Claire early in the morning, which her hair messed up, drool drying on her chin. He’s seen her in jeans and a t-shirt, in short sundresses, and her favorite jumpsuits. He’s seen her at her very best for the Bon Appetit holiday party every year, in dresses that hug every inch of her body, but God, he’s never seen her more beautiful. 

Her dress has a low v-neck, the top of her cleavage barely visible, with a lace bodice. Her arms are covered with mesh lace sleeves. There’s a silver belt around her natural waist, right where the bodice turns into pure white tulle. Her salt and pepper, mostly salt, hair fall in curls over her shoulders and Brad itch to run his hand through them. 

Claire finally reaches where Brad is standing and he reaches his hand out. He gets a good look at her face and now he can tell she has tears in her eyes. She takes his hand and steps up in front of him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, just loud enough so that she’s the only one who can hear him. He feels a rush of pride overwhelm him as she blushes, a single tear falling down her cheek. He reaches his hand out, wiping it away. 

“You clean up well.”

\---

“Claire. You are the most understanding, wonderful, smartest, kindest person I know. You amaze me, every single day. I promise to love you every day of my life. I promise to always have your back, whether you want me there or not. I promise not to leave a bag of egg yolks taped to a wall for over a year, again. I promise to do the dishes when you make dinner. I promise to always be there when you fail at tempering chocolate and when you succeed at making a snack food that’s impossible to make in a standard kitchen. You never stop pushing yourself, never stop challenging yourself and I can not wait to be by your side to tackle everything else. I love you.”

Claire is crying, she can feel the tears falling down her cheeks before she can stop them. Brad’s hand comes up to wipe them away and Claire hears the crowd watching them sigh in awe. 

“Brad. I never thought that I was going to fall in love with a man from Jersey, but we’re all here, so I guess I was wrong. You’ve had a piece of my heart since the day I walked into the test kitchen. You were always my right-hand man, my partner in crime- still are. I can’t do this life without you. I will always need you next to me, destroying the test kitchen equipment. I promise to always stand by your side. I promise to listen to all of your crazy ideas. I promise not to control your fermentation station. I promise to be here when you need someone to lean on. I promise to help you make all the sourdough donuts, even if we fail a thousand times. You’re my best friend, Brad. I love you.”

  
  


“Do you Claire Saffitz take Bradley Samuel Leone to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and not so good times, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

Claire’s smile could rival the stars. “I do.”

“Do you Bradley Samuel Leone take Claire Saffitz to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and not so good times, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

Brad looks at her like he just won a grand prize, hope in his eyes for their life to come. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Brad’s hands cup both of her cheeks, his eyes shining with love and a few stray sunbeams. Claire rests her hands on his back, smiling as their lips met in the best kiss she’s ever had in her life. She can hear their family and friends clapping in the distance, but all she can think about is how Brad is her husband.

\---

“Claire. I don’t dance.” 

They’re in the middle of a rooftop, the skyline of New York City behind them as the sun is setting. It’s a magical moment shared between the two of them as they sway to  _ Happy  _ by Bruce Springsteen, their family and friends are all but forgotten behind them. 

Claire rests her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. She had spent so long planning the most perfect wedding and now that they’re here, at this moment, she wants time to stand still. She wants to spend forever wrapped up in Brad's arms, the sounds of Springsteen filling the air, the warm summer breeze blowing through her hair. She realizes now that she didn’t need to spend weeks obsessing over the perfect invites or what color the table runners were, she just needs Brad. 

“You’re dancing right now, so obviously you dance, Brad.” She can feel him chuckle and she lifts her head up to look at him. He looks down at her and Claire can feel all of the love he has in his body radiate towards her. 

“I love you, Mrs. Leone.” Claire rests her head back on his chest and feels him press a kiss to the top of her head. It feels so weird for her to be referred to as his wife, but that’s who she is now. It’s another accolade on her long list of accomplishments, one of the ones she’s the proudest of.

“I love you too, Mr. Leone.”

Claire might make a habit of stealing his stuff, but he gave her his last name.


End file.
